


We Are Desperate, Lonely And Underpaid

by Anonymous



Category: Forces - All Media Types
Genre: Aged Up, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Mild Angst, Multi, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Traumatic Past - Freeform, Zamber - Freeform, Zofi has Family Issues, all within 4 years of each other, background Cadam, background Trylan, everyone has family issues, everyone is a piece of work, their age gaps are different from the books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Cue Zofia Wilson: newly transferred out-of-state, workaholic junior in a med degree, too-uptight, too appeasing, with a social life that has something to be desired in favor of late studying and cafe shifts. It’s not a bad life, certainly, however predictable and sleepless each week - at least, that’s what she told herself before spending one regrettable night locked out of her dorm, and, drunk on exhaustion, stumbling into the room of her, admittedly striking, next-door neighbor.Forces College AU
Relationships: Adam Shorester/Chloe Christen, Amber Mattiš/Zofia Wilson, Dylan G/Trevor Ruiz, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	We Are Desperate, Lonely And Underpaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: Implied underage drinking
> 
> Trigger warnings and such will always be at the top of each chapter and will be added to tags as the story updates!

Zofi groaned as she finally collapsed onto her floor of the dorm building at some ungodly hour of the night. The lights were dim, but they still burned into her eyes as she trudged down the hall, forcing her to squint and press a hand to her skull to stop the throbbing headache forming. And she thought that she could lessen her suffering if she didn’t drink like all the other students at the party.

She didn’t even know why she went in the first place. It wasn’t as if she had an abundance of friends there—or an abundance of friends at all—and she rarely got out anyways. She hated the loud music and invasive hands and smell of alcohol that lingered for days, maybe only to herself, even if she’d showered over and over again. Zofi had known that there wasn’t going to be anything there for her. But that one small part of her mind had insisted, _maybe_ , she could have fun for once.

Another spike of pain behind her eyes reminded her again just how wrong she had been.

Groping the wall for support, Zofi finally made it to her dorm and almost gasped aloud in relief at the sight of the old wooden door. Half-delirious, she stared at the handle for several moments before realizing that she needed to unlock it, and fought down the temptation to slap herself.

She tried to reach a hand into her purse to feel around for her room key, but at her left there was nothing but air. Tried again with the right—nothing. She looked down, vaguely confused, and realized that the shoulder strap wasn’t there either.

Her purse was gone.

Zofi might have screamed in frustration or agony or panic, if not for sheer exhaustion. 

She searched around in her pockets, only to find napkins and a stray quarter, then looked down the hall to make sure she hadn’t just dropped her purse on the journey. There was, of course, also the possibility that it was on the stairs or in the lobby, but as she recalled the events of the night there grew a very depressing certainty that she had left her purse and all of its valuable contents at the house where the party had been. Groaning again, Zofi tried the door. It was expectedly locked.

“Natalie! You in there?” she yelled through the door with what little energy she had. There was no answer. Zofi huffed and twisted the handle again, shaking it when the lock didn’t give. Kicked the door once too, for good measure. “Son of a bitch.”

Zofi sighed shakily and clenched her fists at her sides, blinking fast. She was sure she'd had worse days, but the toll of every wrong decision, each thoughtless mistake, the entire failure of the night began to finally catch up at once. 

A larger part of her knew that it was all her own fault—what kind of cruel delusion had she been in to think that she, established third-year recluse, had any chance at a _party_?—but the louder, exhausted, most of all angry portion of her somewhere at her core demanded respite, and even through her self-incriminating reasoning, just wanted to be done with it all.

But what good would it do to yell, cry? Just another cold breeze to the swaying house of cards that was her fragile equanimity, and she’d spent long enough building that up for the week.

She kicked the door again purely out of the energy of unadulterated frustration, dull _thud_ sounding as the toe of her shoe made contact, without much idea of why and even less hope that she’d somehow get the lock open by beating up the worn wooden surface. Yet, despite herself, she grabbed the handle again after a third kick and twisted it harshly. To Zofi’s utter surprise, there was a sharp clicking sound and the handle turned.

She pulled open the door (which, to the least of her concern, seemed to lean too much inward), only slightly aware that she would probably have to pay for the damages she dealt in the morning. Strangely, the lights were on inside—but she didn’t put it past herself or Natalie if they’d forgotten to turn it off before they each left the room. She closed the door behind her and started to let her eyes adjust to the brightness, when there was a rustling sound from within the dorm.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” someone said. Zofi froze.

A girl suddenly emerged from the relative darkness of the kitchen, about the same height as the Zofi, with deep brown hair and the greenest eyes Zofi had ever seen. She was wearing an expression more annoyed than angry, though her fists loosely curled at her sides as if she were about to get into a fight. _This isn’t Natalie_ , was all that Zofi was able to produce from the situation.

Fatigue was a heavy fog over her brain, and the thought didn’t seem to trigger anything in Zofi until five seconds later. _This isn’t Natalie_ , she repeated, and a muffled spike of anxiety shot through her gut. Someone else was in her room. “W-What the hell?”

The girl was still. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

"I _live_ here," Zofi said, took a step backwards and caught the surface of the closed door in her hands for support. Anger bubbled in her stomach, a pent-up frustration that had far surpassed the boiling point, that she was much too tired to hold back any longer. It overshadowed any panic that clipped at her senses, dulled the alarms in her head at the thought of an intruder inside her dorm. _What_ did this girl think she was doing? Her hand latched onto the door handle. “Get—Get out!”

A second of silence passed. The two girls stared at each other, challenging, daring, waiting for the other to move. Her breathing became heavy. Just as Zofi started to twist the handle of the door, thinking she'd have to force the intruder out, the girl moved forward.

"You're kidding me," was all she said. Before Zofi could react, the other stepped toward her in a flash of movement and suddenly Zofi was pinned against the door by the shoulders, back slamming against cold wood. The girl held on with a vice-like grip. Anger quickly displaced by fear, Zofi froze and stared with wide eyes as the girl spoke again.

"Who _are_ you?" she growled. Up close, her eyes seemed to glow a pure shade of emerald, not unlike a cat’s in the dark. “Don’t move or your shoulders are going to pop.”

Zofi resisted whimpering in pain, and although her first instinct was to try and break free, she figured it was something of Chinese finger trap situation. Instead she found as much courage as she could and tried her voice. "I’m the _owner_ of this dorm. You better go before I call administration—"

"Excuse me?" The girl hissed. She moved uncomfortably close for a second, never breaking eye contact with Zofi, before backing up once again, narrowing her eyes. "You're not even drunk, god."

"W-what?"

The hands on her shoulders pressed down even harder. "If you’re going to kick down someone’s door and break into their room at this time of night, at least have the fucking dignity to lose your inhibitions to alcohol first.”

“You’re crazy,” Zofi breathed. “I wasn’t breaking in! This is my place. Let me go, or I’ll...”

She’d what? The intruder had her pinned down against the door, for goodness sake, and even if she was stronger than her, Zofi was much too tired to fight back. Every muscle in her body strained just to keep her upright at that point. She couldn’t even call anyone if she somehow broke free, as the emphatic emptiness in her pockets and lack of a purse at her side reminded her. 

Her shoulders ached; she pushed down the urge to squirm. Meanwhile, the girl seemed to pick up on her uncertainty. 

“Administration won’t be on your side,” she sneered. “You rammed into my room at two-thirty in the morning. I'm hardly the crazy one.”

“ _Your_ room?” Zofi said. She should’ve felt outraged, and she meant the words as such, but it was a slow-trickling terror that began to run down her spine. She was...

“No shit. Could you get the hell out of here?”

Zofi could feel her heart pounding through her ribcage. She cursed herself for stammering, but the slow trickle had suddenly become a waterfall. “I-I don’t… This is my…"

Green eyes gleamed hard in front of her.

Swallowing, Zofi looked around, realizing for the first time that the coat rack next to the door was white, not black, that there were posters on the wall and boxes on the floor that she didn’t remember having on her walls or floors. A creeping sensation of deadly certainly rose up in Zofi as the situation hit her. _Shit_.

“Is your room 621?” the girl asked.

“I… no, it’s 622.” Guilt clenched at her chest with the realization. This was the wrong room--she'd broken into her innocent neighbor's dorm. “God damnit.”

The pressure on her shoulders slackened slightly. “You didn't know?"

Her voice was more confused than intimidating now, at least. Zofi thought the answer was obvious. “N-No. I forgot my keys and just thought I could kick the door down… or something.” She swallowed. “I—uh, I’m really sorry.”

A few moments’ awkward silence. Zofi felt the girl's unamused stare boring into her, and idly studied the logo on her shirt—some metal band, she guessed, trying to ignore the churning dread in her stomach—until the girl finally sighed, relaxing her hold on Zofi and stepping back. “I guess I can’t hold it against you that much. Pay some attention next time.”

Zofi looked up in surprise, body still on edge. “You’re… letting me go?"

Her voice had taken on a flat tone, the previous annoyance slipping from her expression and leaving it strangely vacant, if still threatening. "I didn't plan on making you stay."

"But you're not going to get me reported for intrusion or anything?”

The girl frowned. "I should, shouldn't I?"

Despite the pang of anxiety that struck her against her sternum, Zofi hung her head in resignation. There was no way that she wasn't in the wrong, even if the break-in had been accidental. She'd have to accept whatever punishment the university deemed necessary.

But the girl just made a noncommittal hum in her own response. "Front desk isn't taking calls this late. You're safe."

"What?" Zofi's eyes shot up again. For some stupid, ungrateful reason, she protested, "But—but I broke your _door_."

“It’s a flimsy door. If it hasn’t been broken before it probably wouldn’t have given so easily for someone like you," she said plainly. "Also, I don’t feel like paying the call fee.”

Zofi vaguely recognized the insult there. Too relieved to retort.

“I—alright,” she said. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Yeah." The girl glanced past Zofi. "You're, uh, free to leave."

Zofi felt herself flush. “R-Right, sorry.” She turned around, making to pull the door open, before stopping as a sudden wave of guilt crashed through her at the now-crooked state of the door handle.

“Ah…" Zofi faltered, glancing back. The girl was still there, arms crossed somewhat impatiently. "I’m extremely sorry about all this, I mean it. Even if you won't send me up. Your door… I can pay for it, and whatever other damage I caused."

The girl blinked. “Oh. No, it’s fine. This building's old, it was inevitable."

"Really!" Zofi insisted, too enthusiastic, conscience weighing out her struggling college wallet. "I-I don't have anything with me right now, but we could talk tomorrow, or whenever you get the damages down."

The girl pursed her lips, neither accepting or denying the offer with an answer, and abruptly changed the subject. "You said you didn't have your keys, no spares? Any other way to get into your dorm?”

“My roommate took the extra one,” Zofi admitted. “And, well, it’s like you said. Front desk won’t take calls at three A.M. I usually wouldn’t try to break the door to get in, but… I guess I got frustrated.” She laughed awkwardly. “It’s been a long night.”

“I can imagine.”

Zofi was about to turn the handle again to finally leave when the other girl sighed and stopped her. “Where are you going to sleep? No front desk and all.”

Looking back at her questioningly, Zofi shrugged. “I don't know.”

“You don’t have any friends to call?”

"No." Or, well, her phone was still sitting in the bottom of a purse about ten miles away.

The girl looked at her for a second, something calculating beneath her eyes, expression unreadable. Zofi wasn’t sure if the other was still annoyed, or pitying her, or concluding that her next-door-neighbor had absolutely lost it. She silently weighed the odds of this stranger, whose dorm she just invaded and door she just broke, somehow having the mind to help her. Perhaps the girl was again reconsidering reporting her to staff.

Truth be told, even if Zofi still had her phone, she wouldn’t have been comfortable calling anyone, and she doubted any of her very few contacts were awake or sober anyway. She’d have to spend what was left of the night in the halls if she couldn’t find any other options.

“Okay,” the girl said. “I might be able to help. Stay here for a second.”

Zofi’s eyes widened. “W-What? You don’t have to—”

“I’d feel bad if I just left you outside. Sit tight,” the girl interrupted, already turning away to leave into what Zofi assumed was the kitchenette.

A slight prickling of unease settled within her. Zofi hadn’t meant to guilt-trip this girl into helping her right her own mistake. Still, she’d be lying if she hadn’t at least entertained the possibility of not sleeping on the corridor floor—a thought she immediately caught and pushed down. ( _Selfish, manipulative, awful_ —)

Zofi jumped, startled, when the girl returned. “You know, if it’s that much of a bother, I’ll find some other solution. I really don’t want to impose."

“It’ll only take a minute,” the girl scoffed. She pushed past Zofi, opening the door behind her and motioning for Zofi to step out into the hall again. “Let’s go.”

Taken aback by whatever the girl was doing, Zofi stayed planted in the ground. “What?”

“I’ll see if I can open your door. That’s what you needed help for, right?”

“Oh.” Zofi rubbed at the back of her neck, immediately regretting her next words as they came out. “I was thinking more along the lines of… you know, you giving me a place to stay until morning. Or—I mean, not that I expected it, just…”

Luckily, the girl interrupted her again. “I don’t think either of us would be comfortable with that.”

Zofi paused, a bit startled by her bluntness. “That’s probably true…”

“You’re okay with this?” the girl said suddenly. “I’m going to be picking your lock. If you really wanted to stay, my roommate’s bed is empty right now. She’ll probably just kick your ass out first thing in the morning, though.”

“You’re picking my—” Zofi stopped herself. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m totally asking too much of you already.”

“Well, come on.” The girl moved aside, and Zofi stepped out into the hall. She led the girl down the hall until she reached her actual room, only a door to the left of the one she had just broken into. Zofi watched as the girl knelt down by the lock, taking a long metal instrument from her pocket and inserting it inside the keyhole. She fiddled around with the instrument, carefully maneuvering it from left to right, occasionally sliding it in and out again. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she worked. Zofi studied her, a bit mesmerized, until she heard the girl speak again. 

“What were you doing out this late? You aren’t drunk.” Her speech hadn’t gained much emotion since. It was an unnerving near-monotone, lacking any of the hostility from when she had been holding Zofi fast against her door.

“I—well,” Zofi looked away in mild embarrassment, despite the fact that the girl couldn't see her anyway, “I tried to go to a party.”

“Got bored?”

Zofi bit her lip. “More or less. I could ask the same for you.”

“Uh. I had a night shift.” The metal instrument seemed to catch. “Hold on—”

There was a loud _click_ from the lock and the girl withdrew her hand and stood.

She pocketed the metal thing again and looked expectantly at Zofi. “Alright. It’s open.”

“That quick?” Zofi said, incredulously twisting the handle and pulling the door easily open, revealing her room, with the right coat rack and wall posters, in pitch dark. “Wow. Uh, thanks. A lot.”

The girl nodded. “You should still see the RA in the morning. Don’t expect me to keep breaking into your room for you until you find those keys.”

“I-I will, thank you.”

Muttering a, “Don’t mention it,” the girl turned to leave again. 

At the sight, Zofi felt an odd pulling in her stomach, a strange disappointment of parting ways with this stranger so soon. She knew there was something off there; they’d only just met, and Zofi rarely ever wanted to spend more time than necessary with people she didn’t know. Maybe it was the late hour, a bond shared only between those who stayed up beyond midnight on weekdays; maybe it was gratitude toward the other girl, or curiosity and perhaps some healthy amount of unease for the questionable skills being displayed… A persistent nagging at the back of Zofi's mind told her to get to know her mysterious, lock-picking neighbor better. 

She spoke. “Wait!”

The girl stopped and looked back, tilting her head in confusion.

“I…” What had she meant to say? She had a feeling she was already taking more of this girl’s time than the other was willing to give. The girl probably just wanted to get back to sleep before dawn. “I, just… If there’s any favors or anything you need doing in the future, feel free to ask me, alright? I truly can’t thank you enough.”

“It was no problem,” the girl responded, her voice neutral, though she looked a bit flustered, as if she wasn’t sure how to respond to the offer. “Just don’t kick down any more doors in the future.” 

“I promise it won’t be a common occurrence.” Zofi laughed a little and stuck her hand out before the air around them turned awkward. “I’m… Zofi, by the way. Zofi Wilson.”

“Amber,” the girl replied, shaking her hand after a moment. Her grip was less than firm, but Zofi felt the callouses on her fingers. Did she pick locks _that_ often?

“It was nice meeting you,” Zofi said sincerely. “Sorry, again, for everything, especially the door. Um, could we talk about the expenses tomorrow? I’d be happy to pay for reparations if you need any—in fact, I don’t think I could in good faith go without compensating everything.”

A flash of consternation appeared in Amber’s eyes, but a moment and it was gone. “It wasn’t really your fault, as I said. You don’t have to pay for it.”

“I’d feel worse if I didn’t, truthfully,” Zofi said. “I-I don’t have my wallet currently, and I’m sure you’re tired from all this, but you can knock whenever you’re able to in the morning. We can talk then if that’s alright.”

Amber shook her head, far too dismissively. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. You’re tired too, aren’t you? You should go back in your dorm now that it’s open instead of apologizing all night.”

Zofi faltered at the change in topic, but smiled sheepishly, physically having to stop herself from apologizing again. “O-okay, then, I appreciate it. Goodnight, Amber.”

Giving a small smile of her own (shit, she was pretty when she smiled), Amber turned around and walked back to her own door.

Once Amber had gone into her room, Zofi sighed and entered her own. Their sudden departure had left Zofi with countless more words she wanted to say, some clear and some irritatingly forgotten, now swirling unsatisfied through her mind. She'd never had a problem with being alone before, but now the empty common room felt suffocatingly _lonely,_ the bare silence hanging in the air and making her thoughts ring in her ears. Spending the better part of the night in a cramped house with blaring EDM and screaming drunk college students hadn't been good for her head at all.

Rummaging the cabinets for pain-relievers, Zofi couldn't help but linger on thoughts of her next-door neighbor. She was beyond grateful, of course, that Amber had been so willing to help, but a significant part of her remained uncertain, unnerved. 

A potential _thief_ had been living next to her this entire time, yet she remembered no incidences of robbery to have ever occurred in her two months of living at the college. If Amber really wanted to break into someone's dorm, there wasn't much stopping her. No security cameras in the halls, no deadbolts on the doors, and very few students living in their rooms during the weekends. She had tools for doing just that, for crying out loud.

But she had shown _Zofi_ that skill, something that could so easily be used against her. If the college knew about it, Amber would be banned from the dorms indefinitely. And for some reason, Zofi had no urge to report her, especially since...

Zofi sighed. This girl had _helped_ her, even after Zofi had essentially kicked her door down and barged into her room. She didn't wish to report Zofi, hardly asked for any compensation… Surely Amber wasn't a bad person. Zofi should've been _thankful_ , not suspicious—and a large part of her was. But the questions wouldn't stop, wouldn't mellow their sharp prods to her already aching head. _Why_ did Amber decide Zofi wasn't worth sending up? The damage she'd caused certainly wasn't light. Why was she so adamant to refuse Zofi's offers of repayment?

( _Why are you so ungrateful?_ )

She resolved, after two aspirin pills and a scattered night routine, to sleep as much as she could before her afternoon class the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work and chapter from Voxtrot, "Raised By Wolves"
> 
> My first College AU fic, featuring Zamber+background Cadam and Trylan! I don't know how many chapters this will be, or if it'll have an end, but I'm going to try to update this once every week or two. This is very much a long-form, slow-burn kind of story, so either strap along for the ride or click away if you think you won't find the rest interesting. Chapters are without any pre-planned length, and the format is rather loose, but I hope you enjoyed reading regardless. 
> 
> See you next chapter!


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